stand up, soldier, it's just a scratch
by lowi
Summary: This is the story of Seamus and his life, the way it twists and turns. Nominated to best one-shot at The First Foxhall Fanfiction Awards. Placed third in the Alliteration Competition.


_A/N: Written for __The Alliteration Competition__ in the HPFC, where I was given the character and a bunch of prompts, from which I used the following: __s__erendipity, __s__olace, __s__eersucker, __s__erpentine, __s__ecretary, __s__ilkworm, __s__kirting, __s__ummery, __s__prinkles, __s__eismograph, __s__pindle, and __s__paceship._

_Also, many thanks to Becca (__Aebbe)__ for betareading this._

* * *

**stand up, soldier, it's just a scratch**

When he was five years old, he dreamt of building a spaceship, and flying to the moon and never coming back. He was going to live there forever, and watch the earth slowly spin beneath him, and never cry again.

:::

This is the story of Seamus Finnigan and it's about to commence now.

:::

After that dreadful day, he just didn't know what else to do, what more to do. Because, just as he had thought he couldn't be happier, he had got it all thrown back in his face. It was like a spindle.

At first it had been unmoving, the spindle had lain forgotten in a child's toy box, and every day had been filled by going to class, hating them and not knowing when to stop, being tortured, going back, and then it would start over again the next day. An endless cycle of the same.

But then, then his best friend had entered the room, and he hadn't seen him for so long, ages, it felt like, and so the child picked the spindle up and twirled it on the floor. When the battle began and the spindle twirled faster and faster and they shot victorious grins to each other, he suddenly knew that it twirled too fast.

It fell to the ground with a thud. A thud that echoed so loud in his brain that he couldn't even hear his own screams. Dean had been hit, and there weren't a chance in the world that the child would ever pick the spindle up again, not anymore.

It was all beyond rescuing. They would never twirl together again.

Seamus was alone.

:::

That was the first time Seamus' life ended.

:::

When he was thirteen years old, Seamus bathed in sprinklers for the first time. He was at Dean's place and the air smelled of freedom and summery thoughts and everything was shining so brightly that his cheeks hurt from smiling.

They lay on the ground and the clouds above them were running across the sky like a herd of sheep, hunted by an angry wolf.

"Dean, why are they called _sprinklers_?" Seamus asked when he had stopped breathing so hard.

Dean rolled over on his side so that he could look at his friend. "Do you really _not_ have them in the Wizarding world?"

"Yes, I told you I've never seen them before."

"Okay," Dean answered and rolled back on his back. "Because…I think it because they sprinkle water out, perhaps?"

"Oh, that could be it."

Dean nodded, and smiled, as if he was happy that Seamus had agreed with his explanation. "Okay, I'm warm now, let's start them again!"

Seamus jumped up on his feet, a few moments after Dean. "Sure!"

And so they dove into the glittering droplets that soared through the sky like tiny crystals, and if it had been a film, that scene would have been in slow motion.

:::

Seamus life was still beginning there, not yet formed and not yet shaped. There was more that needed evolution, and there were things that had yet to happen to bring him fully alive.

:::

Seamus looked out through his window and regretted all he had ever done. He didn't want to be stuck here, in a boring office, listening to complaints all day, going to meetings, write reports and flirting with his secretary.

He had had plans, once. Plans of ruling the world, seeing every country, being a discoverer with a telescope in one hand and a map to the pirate's treasure in the other.

However, here he was, being strangled by a tie and drowning in his own sweat drops thanks to the heat in his too small working room.

"Christy, go and tell them that it's impossible to work in here, they have to do something about it!" He stuck out his head through his door and watched his secretary's already burning cheeks blossom even more.

"Yes, sir," she answered and hurried out through the door, her shoes clipping against the floor, rapidly. The sound echoed as she disappeared, but he could still hear it in his head, ticking like a seismograph…no, wait, that's not right. A Geiger counter, that's it. A Geiger counter going mad because of the amount of uranium down below, in the ground.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He had a headache. A terrible headache. He just had to get out of here, to somewhere else, to somewhere better.

Maybe it was the heat that did it, maybe it was the headache, maybe it was the years of being bored that suddenly made him explode, but either way, three minutes later he stood on the street, the top button of his shirt undone, the tie hanging unknotted around his neck and his lips beginning to quirk up in a smile.

Let's go find that treasure now, Captain Finnigan, he thought and smiled.

:::

And so Seamus started his life again. He didn't know it, but he had needed those years of boredom, to heal, to bring peace to his scarred mind. But now he was fully prepared to begin once more, with the joy of living of a newborn and the spark of a completely fresh and new person.

:::

The road in front of him turned and twisted, winding and serpentine, and he didn't even know where it was heading. But he had to follow it and it was too late to go back. Far too late.

He had started something new, and he had to complete it, because if he dropped out, he would fall over the edge and stumble down onto something sharp and pointy.

So he kept wandering up that road, up that hill, because something told him that if he just arrived there, he would find his treasure, see where it was hidden, and see the way forward.

He took the final step and reached the peak. Up there, the sky spread out itself around him, like a star-clad blanket prepared to be wrapped around him. He could see so far, and so clear, and it wasn't intimidating at all. Instead it was welcoming him, as if saying _you're a part of all this, you aren't alone_.

But he couldn't see his treasure. It was nowhere to be spotted. And his breathing turned rushed, and he grasped after nothing, and he had to find it, somewhere, it had to be there, it had to.

But then, as sudden as if he had wished upon a star, he knew it. It wasn't to be seen yet; it was going to be a surprise, a serendipity, a shock, a spaceship crashing in his back garden filled with all those Martians he had wanted to meet when he was a kid.

He wouldn't be able to predict it. It was hidden beneath a veil of seersucker, and the veil wouldn't be drawn away until the moment was there. But it was possible to almost, _almost_ look through.

Patience—that was what he needed to have.

:::

He waited. And waited. And waited. Then, boom.

:::

It was odd, the way the idea hit him. It was like a worm, creeping into his brain and slowly winding itself around the pillar of his consciousness, making him almost believe that he had _always_ had the idea. And wasn't it more of a silkworm? Because it weaved the promises of this being better, more beautiful, and what he needed, all around him.

He was going to…get a dog.

But as soon as he spoke the thought out loud, it fell to the ground. Ah, the anticlimax. He laughed at himself, getting a dog? Did he really think it was going to make any difference?

He poured himself a cup of tea and sank back into his chair, not bothering to put any lights on. He could as well sit here in the darkness; listen to the creaks without seeing a thing.

And he did.

A dog. Was he out of his mind? A dog wouldn't help him, no way.

:::

Seamus felt silly, skirting after the woman into the little shop. But she had promised him that she had something for him, she had tugged at his arm as he had passed by with hands shoved into pockets and nose down in the ground.

"Here, come, come," she kept urging him. She was tall, but crouched, and her whole body was wrinkled, as much as he could see of it underneath the dozen layers of robe she was wearing. "I've seen your pain, it shines out from you, made me almost blind, oh yes."

Seamus narrowed his eyes slightly as he had to duck when they walked in through a small, low door. "What do you mean, 'seen my pain'?"

"Seen it, boy, seen it. It's there, all around you." She turned around quickly and put a hand on his chest. "In there, there is an empty hole; a piece of you is missing."

She pulled off the hand and kept walking, and Seamus absentmindedly put his own hand over where she had had hers. And, how big was this little shop? They had now walked for several minutes, deeper and deeper in, bookshelves and boxes and emptied boxes and things he didn't want to know why they were wailing and things he wanted to know why they were singing and things, things, _things _everywhere.

No wonder she was so crouched.

Finally she stopped. "Here, here's what'll give you solace." She pulled out a little amulet from a big cupboard and pressed it in Seamus' hand, making sure his fingers were closely clutching it. "Now go, go," she said, pushing at his back and causing him to walk out of there before he had time to say anything.

And Seamus stood out on the street in Diagon Alley, having to hold up a hand in front of his eyes so as not to be dazzled by the bright light, and the amulet lay in his hand, warm and round.

:::

This is the story of Seamus Finnigan, and he's about to start living again.

:::

_I am twenty-nine years old now and I still miss you, Dean. I miss you like hell. Do you remember that we promised each other that as soon as we were finished with school, we would sell all our things, and take the money, and travel somewhere, and buy a little house by the sea and live there forever?_

_I remember it. And I still want that. Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I was thirteen and I was just about to wake you up and tell you about the dream I had just had. But then I looked to my left, and you weren't there, I wasn't in Hogwarts, and my room was absolutely dead quiet._

_It felt awful. I don't want to sound like I'm blaming you, I mean, you can't help that you were killed, but I just want you to know, that I still love you. At first, the few years after the battle, I was almost mad. I hunted your killer like a rabid dog, I wanted blood, I wanted revenge, and I wanted him to feel the pain I had felt._

_I found him._

_But that's not what this is about, Dean. This is actually me saying farewell to you. I never thought this would happen; that I'd actually dare to say this. But, even though my hand is shaking right now, it is true. _

_It was yesterday I made up my mind about it. I was given an amulet by a woman, and, somehow I got the idea that it was that one who would decide what I was going to do, with everything. So I decided, that if the backside came up, I would get myself a dog, and if it didn't, I would write this letter. And I tossed it, and the front, obviously, came up._

_So, goodbye Dean. It's not that I'll forget you, I'll just move on._

_Yours always,_

_Seamus_

:::

The amulet twirled in the air, slowly, slowly spinning around, and Seamus caught it and closed his hand around it.

Then he smiled and put it in his pocket and left the beach. The bottle in which he had put the letter slowly drifted out in the sea, the waves gurgling around it, as if wanting to play with their new mate.


End file.
